


Already There

by In_agony_and_ecstasy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Domestic, Awkward Sexual Situations, Awkward situations, Awkwardness, Bisexuality, Dating, Declarations Of Love, Doubt, Engagement, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Non-Explicit Sex, fluff more or less, jeanconnie, non-explicit blow job
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-15
Updated: 2019-02-15
Packaged: 2019-10-28 18:33:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17792552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/In_agony_and_ecstasy/pseuds/In_agony_and_ecstasy
Summary: During a particularly satisfying sexual endeavor, Connie lets slip his desire to get married. Abruptly, Jean has to leave before they can resolve their feelings. Sasha's there to talk Connie through it until Jean returns.





	Already There

**Author's Note:**

> Valentine's Day inspired me to finish this today. You know what that means:
> 
> It is edited poorly!
> 
> Thank you for reading and enjoy!

Jean was going down on me at the time. That was the only excuse I had for what I said. 

And, it’s not even like he’d never gone down on me before. In fact, he had, maybe a dozen times since we’d moved in barely two weeks ago. Other than the futon I laid on right now, and he, sort of, leaned over, right now, virtually nothing was even unpacked yet. The queen bed we’d purchased together – our first big couple purchase for our first shared apartment together – wouldn’t even arrive for another two days.

In my defense, this might as well have been the first blow job he’d ever given me. Maybe even the first I’d ever received. Or actually, it might as well have been my first ever orgasm because – I mean, I couldn’t even describe it because orgasms were like pizza, you know, even a bad pizza was like, fuck, it’s pizza, am I right? Like, what, I’m not gonna eat it just because it sat out all night and Jean had already thrown it away? Like, it’s at the top of the garbage can, you know what I mean?

But like, _this_ was not in the same league as those other orgasms. I’d still remember _this_ orgasm when I was eighty, and it would abruptly cure me of my erectile dysfunction right in front of my grandkids. 

When it happened my stomach flexed, and my ass rose off the cushion and my fingers curled in his undercut and I threw my head back and just – 

“ _Fuck, Jean!_ ” I moaned, shaking as his sweet mouth slid off of me. He gave me a second to recover, before smirking. I closed my eyes and covered my face with clammy hands. “Oh fuck – Christ, if we weren’t already engaged, I’d ask you to fucking marry me.”

And then, there he was, sitting on the floor, leaning against the futon, staring at me a full three minutes later when my body simmered down and my brain cells came waddling back to reality.

My eyes shot open and I snapped up and his eyes met mine and we just gaped at each other.

“Connie?” he asked. I couldn’t tell if he was concerned, or scared or pissed or what.

“Yeah?” 

“We’re –”

“I know -”

“Not engaged. Did you –”

“I know –”

“Think we –”

“No, no, I swear. I know –”

“Then…are you asking me to –”

“No!” I blurted, too quickly. Then I yanked my pants up, because the only thing worse than an awkward moment was an awkward moment with your dick out.

Jean scratched the back of his head and scanned the room around us. His eyes glanced toward our bathroom, our bedroom and kitchen, all 900 square feet. It would cost 600 dollars a month to rent, when both of us barely made 400 dollars a month each at our jobs. He was looking for somewhere new to work and I was putting school on hold to get a second job so that we wouldn’t have to count pennies just to buy food.

He was doing this for me. Because I was twenty-five years old and until six months ago I’d been living with my parents rent-free, going to school online, and biking to work because I’d totaled a car and couldn’t afford to get another one yet. To say the least, they’d had enough. And sure, they hadn’t kicked me out or anything, but they would have, if Jean hadn’t let me stay in his dorm.

Jean’s phone rang. I exhaled a breath I didn’t know I was holding. He glanced at the screen.

“Its work,” he said, and answered it. Then he left the room. He liked to pace while he was on the phone, though I figured he wanted to get away from me too. He looked so uncomfortable, and I couldn’t lie to myself. That hurt a little bit. Not because I actually wanted to marry him.

Okay, I _did_ want to marry him. But I didn’t want to ask him to marry me until – I didn’t know. Until we were ready?

But I didn’t know what it would take for us to be ready. For him to be ready, rather. I figured he wanted us to date a certain amount of time he never disclosed to me before we got engaged, because that was what most people did. They dated longer than three months first. And, obviously, I agreed that was how it should be for _other_ people. People who hadn’t been next door neighbors their whole lives, and best friends for years…

It wasn’t just that though. Jean hadn’t told his parents about us yet. I’d met them a hundred times before, but they knew me as Jean’s straight friend. That was understandable, given that until moving into Jean’s dorm with him, I’d only dated women and had no idea even, that I liked guys. And I couldn’t exactly explain to Jean’s parents…No you don’t get it – I’m just _like_ that! I don’t have a clue about anything! Especially myself! Especially being in love with Jean all my life! You expect _me_ to know what’s going on with _Connie?_ Yeah, right, ask Jean.

Jean hadn’t known either though. Which I thought scared him the most. He didn’t trust how I felt about him yet. Or maybe, he kept waiting for me to not hold his hand back in public. Or not tell our landlord the nature of our relationship. Or not tell my parents that we ended up kissing one tipsy night in his dorm when he was bummed about this date with this girl that had gone wrong because he told her he was bi and I had gotten so offended that she was offended I couldn’t even explain it and I went on a rant about how fucked up it was for someone to turn down a chance to be with him for something like that and how I never would and he kissed me and I eased into my new home so effortlessly it was as if I’d lived there all my life. 

Well, I did all that. Nothing changed the fact that I could hear him exhale in relief every time I did. 

When Jean got off the phone, he stepped over and around boxes to get back to me. “They need me,” he said, “And I’d – I’d refuse but –”

“We need the money,” I said, “Go.”

He gave me the same look before, the one I couldn’t read. I thought he was about to say something. His jaw clenched. He hesitated. But finally, he threw on his jacket and left.

Milliseconds after he stepped out the door I leapt for my phone.

She answered on the first ring. “Hey, boo.”

“Sash, I need you to come over rightnowimmediately _please._ ”

…

Not even twenty minutes later I swung the door open before she even finished knocking. I hadn’t explained to her on the phone what happened, and she gave me a wide-eyed stare now as she slowly blew a bubblegum bubble. It splatted against her face. She blinked.

“Are you okay?” she asked, as she walked into my kitchen and swung the fridge open. She shook her head, unpleased, as always, with the menu. Then she yanked out a bottle of orange juice and drank from the jug, presumably, swallowing her gum with it. 

“No,” I said, “No. I’m not. I accidentally – Well, I didn’t exactly _ask_ him to marry me, but –”

She, not even on purpose, not even for theatrics, began choking on the orange juice. She had to slap her chest and cough several times before she met my gaze again.

“You _what_?! Connie! It’s been _three_ months! Three months! We dated four times longer than that and it _still_ would have been too soon!”

I rolled my eyes. As if I needed reminding why we broke up. She would have never been ready and apparently, I was ready too soon. With her it hadn’t felt like it but with Jean – I mean, maybe I actually was crazy.

“You don’t think I know that?” I slid out a stool from underneath the island counter and sat down. I cradled my head in my hands. 

“Well, then why did you –”

“It just happened! Like – okay, he was being _really_ good, okay, and I couldn’t, like, handle – I was not in control of anything I was saying.”

She was quiet a little too long. I glanced up at her. She was wearing a grimace.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” she said. “I’m still not used to you and Jean. I mean…like, wouldn’t it be weird if I started having sex with a woman?”

“Yeah, I know. You’ve brought this –”

“And that woman was like…as hot as Jean. But like a woman. And like, you have to picture it, you know?”

I groaned. “Are you going to be any help at all?”

“Sorry, sorry. Seriously. I guess…What did he say?”

I couldn’t say he said yes or no, so I first had to explain to her what I said: that I implied I thought we were already engaged. 

“And I know, _logically_ we aren’t engaged –”

“So, you mean, you know the only way there is to know that.”

I sighed. “You don’t get it. It’s – different with Jean. It doesn’t feel like we’re dating to me. It feels like we’re an old married couple pretending to date. It fucking sucks. I’m sick of holding back how I feel. We’re not engaged but I _feel_ like –”

“Like you’re engaged? Is that even a feeling?” She arched an eyebrow at me and set the jug of orange juice down on the counter. 

She crossed her arms on the counter across from me and tilted her head. Her brown eyes glistened under the ceiling light and her auburn pony-tail spilled over her shoulder. She was beautiful, undoubtedly, but it was strange to think that half a year ago something as simple as looking at her, right now, just being herself, could make my heartbeat stutter. I wondered how that happened. How someone could just steal the love you had for someone else and keep it for themselves. It felt like that’s what Jean had done – at first. But, the longer I was with him, the more I thought my first ever girlfriend stole my love for him from him, and from that point on it was just passed from one girl to the next. Until it finally found its way back to him. 

“No. I don’t feel like we’re engaged. I feel like we might as well be. Like, we might as well get it over with now. Because it’s going to happen sooner or later. Sooner or later – I’m going to ask him to marry me. For real.”

Sasha’s eyebrows rose. “Jeez, Con.”

I shrugged. It felt good to say. And saying it made what happened with Jean earlier feel like no big deal. Like, maybe we’d both laugh about it someday on our wedding anniversary, because neither of us would be able to believe that at one point, we weren’t sure we’d get married.

“You should tell him,” she said. “He should know how you feel. Even if –”

“Even if he doesn’t feel the same way.” I deflated in my seat. I flipped my hood over my head and rested my chin on my crossed arms.

Sash pursed her lips. “Is he gonna be out for a while?”

I nodded.

“Alright. Here’s what we’re gonna do. We’re gonna bake cookies. While we bake cookies, I’ll be Jean. You practice proposing to him.”

I considered how serious she was, and when she smiled sweetly at me after a good long moment, I smiled back. 

“Okay.” I stood and walked into the kitchen with her.

…

Jean didn’t get home until late. He walked in on me unpacking boxes full of movies and video games. I figured this might be the best way to butter him up. Not only had I made myself productive while he was gone with unpacking, but I had unpacked the best stuff. 

“Hey, babe,” I said, gazing at him in my periphery. He hung his jacket up in the entrance hallway, which, already, was weird. Normally he threw it on the couch or the counter. Then he untied his shoes while I unwrapped a stack of Blu-Rays. I tried not to stare at him, or look like I was waiting for something to happen. My neck beaded with sweat. He walked up behind me and I swallowed with some trouble.

Then he placed his hands on my waist. Wrapped his arms slowly around me. He rested his head on my shoulder, taking advantage of our height difference.

I swallowed again. “How was –”

“I want to be honest with you,” he said, cutting right to the chase. 

I winced. “Okay.”

“Turn around Connie.” 

I spun around, and in one fluid motion Jean slid something into my hands.

“Earlier, I was pissed.”

My eyebrows furrowed as I gripped onto the box in my hand. It didn’t feel familiar. “I know.” I said, completely distracted now.

“I wanted to be the one to ask,” he said, snorting. I first processed the sound of him snorting and the sight of him shaking his head, before the words even hit my ears.

“Uh…What?” I said. He held my hand shut around the box so I wouldn’t look at it. My knees were trembling, and I was suddenly certain this was the reason all my pants were too loose and big for me. 

“And instead, you brought it up at the worst possible time. And in the worst possible way. As if I’d already asked you,” Jean said, and laughed. “How the hell…was I supposed to ask you to marry me after something like that?”

I looked him in the eyes searching his expression. He released my hand and I unfurled my fingers. He snapped the box open revealing a small gold ring.

“I bought this…a week or so ago. I didn’t know when I was going to ask. But,” and he paused to snort again, “Your comment earlier made me realize it didn’t matter when. We were already engaged.”

I gaped at him. “What do you mean? I thought you said –”

He smirked at me, ever amused with my need to have things spelled out. “We both knew. The day you kissed me – the day you were so offended that chick wouldn’t date me because I was bi. More offended than any straight person could ever be about something like that. I knew then, that you were bi too, that you were going to kiss me, and that you had always liked me, even if you were just beginning to realize it.”

“Really?” I asked, “Because – Because I had no fucking idea why I was so pissed. I just – just – who wouldn’t want to be with you?”

Jean kissed me quick before he plucked the ring from the case and the case plopped to the floor. He took my left hand in his and slid the ring on.

“We wasted so much time not being together,” Jean said, simply. “That when we got together that was it. The ring is just…so other people know too, I guess.”

I reached up to thread my fingers through his sandy-blond undercut. He was still smirking, but I could tell he was fighting an outright grin. His eyes beamed. As if we’d practiced, I jumped and Jean held me up by my waist. He spun around once and we collapsed on our couch, kissing. 

Kissing everywhere so long and so deeply hours passed in a minute. And abruptly, in the middle of kissing still, Jean whipped his head to the side to cackle into our throw pillow.

“What?” I demanded. 

“I just can’t believe I gave you such good head you thought we had to be engaged. You _would_.” 

“Shut up,” I spit and he continued to laugh along my neck. “It’s all your fault!” 

He laughed until I shut him up with more kissing.

**Author's Note:**

> If you're curious my tumblr URL is oryx-and-thickney.


End file.
